No Word That is Not True
by Pelahnar
Summary: Satine lives and the Duke is gone don't ask how , but Christian has returned to England. Satine, unable to follow, does nothing but eat, sleep, and sing, all emotionlessly. One night, she receives an unexpected guest with rather startling information...
1. A Nighttime Visitor

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the Moulin Rouge, nor the Wheel of Time, nor Harry Potter...**

**Ok, so this story doesn't have anything to do with Harry Potter, but it does have an aspect from the Wheel of Time series. In the series there are these characters called Aes Sedai. If you've read the books, you know who they are and if you haven't, it'd take too long to explain. What's important is that they take these three binding oaths, each termed in such a way that they can be easily side-stepped. One of them is "I solemnly swear to speak no word that is not true." When I was watching the Moulin Rouge for the hundredth time or so, I noticed how Satine seemed to dance around direct lies in the scene that the DVD entitles 'Satine's Sacrifice' and _I_ call 'Satine's Betrayal'. It was almost as if _she'd_ taken this oath (I know, I know, she just didn't like lying to him at all. But still.) She never said, for example, "I don't love you." Or, "I want to sleep with the Duke." Or anything, really, that could only be taken one way. So I wrote this story, sort of as a revenge against her for lying at all. Don't worry though, it'll have a happy ending. And she won't die (not that I would ever say that was a happy ending).**

**Enjoy!**

Satine was doing something she'd sworn she would never be able to do. Of course, she'd proven herself wrong before in such swearing before – only five years ago, she would've said she'd never become a prostitute. Go back another few years and she'd never become a dancer. And not long before then, her dream of acting had never been born.

But now, she was living without Christian.

It wasn't so difficult. She sang, albeit without feeling, during the day. She obediently ate whatever food Marie set in front of her – not through hunger, of course, just because it was there. And at night, she slept. Alone, upon that she insisted.

Her dreams were fitful. Every night, it seemed, she would dream of the life she now knew she'd never live – a life in which she was allowed to live as she wanted, in love with Christian. A life where she was truly happy. But every night it became the nightmare where they were once again pulled apart. She woke crying every morning, and those tears were the only emotion she ever showed.

She woke crying, that is, until the day she woke instead when a knife was put to her throat.

"Wh - !" she tried to cry out.

"Be quiet!" her attacker, whose face was hidden in shadows, whispered harshly. "Not a word, or I'll kill you!"

Satine closed her mouth, wondering as she did so whether she should. To die at the hand of another seemed more appealing to her than suicide, something she'd considered several times since Christian had left.

"I want an explanation!" The attacker hissed.

An explanation? How specific. Satine thought idly. "King John was taking too much power for himself and quarreling with the other nobles, so they decided –" she began.

"I don't want to know why they wrote the Magna Carta!" If possible, the knife-wielder's voice was even harsher, though no louder, than before.

Satine sighed. "You asked for an explanation. I was giving one." She whispered back. She noted, with some surprise, that she was not scared. Perhaps it was because she did not fear dying – after all, she hadn't exactly being living for the past few months, had she? "Who are you, anyway? I can't see a thing."

She heard a sigh, somewhat like her own a few seconds previously, and the attacker muttered, "Don't move!" The feel of metal left her skin and a minute later a candle flared in the darkness.

Satine could not suppress a gasp. "You're a girl!"

"I'm a woman. There's a difference." The woman returned to Satine's bed, still holding the knife but no longer threatening with it.

"Yes. That's what I meant – the point is, you're female." She was a rather pretty female, too, with long chestnut locks falling down her back and large, innocent-seeming brown eyes. Innocent, Satine scoffed silently. An innocent woman did not _carry_ a knife, let alone wield it so threateningly. Although, despite her claims to womanhood, she couldn't be older than twenty. "Who are you?" Satine repeated her first question.

"My name is Margaret." That was – unenlightening. Satine knew of no one by the name of Margaret. Seeing her blank expression, Margaret grinned. "He never mentioned me then? No, I suppose not. But he's told me about you. _All_ about you."

He? Satine repressed a shiver, suddenly cold. She could, now, guess what the explanation demand had been about. Feigning confusion, and wanting to hear his name aloud again, Satine asked, "Who?"

She was not disappointed. "Christian, of course." Margaret was still smiling, but it was not a nice smile – it was an 'I'm about to eat you alive and enjoy every minute of it' kind of smile. "I want an explanation." She then repeated. Her hand tightened on the knife as she said it, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Satine.

"If he's told you all about me, as you so adamantly say he has, then you have an explanation. There is no other." She lied quietly. The truth belonged to Christian, and – until he knew it, at least – Christian alone."Why are _you_ asking anyway? If he wants another explanation, why not come himself? Why send you?"

"Christian didn't send me. I don't think he even knows I'm gone. Or cares, probably."

Satine, who was growing more mystified by the word, thought she heard some bitterness in Margaret's voice. "Who are you?" she asked once more.

"My name is Margaret. I want an explanation." Margaret answered. "A better one. Because frankly, yours is not good enough."

"N-not good enough?" She cursed herself for stuttering. But she'd been surprised. "I was a courtesan, Margaret! He knew that, from the beginning. I told him so myself – if he didn't understand the warning, that's his problem, not mine." She took a deep, calming breath. The breath did not manage to calm her properly, but she continued anyway. "I work for money, and –"

"Liar!" Margaret cried, half-raising her knife again. "According to Christian, he didn't give you any kind of payment! Nor any promise of it in the future!" Margaret hissed furiously.

"I am not a liar. I spoke no word to him that was not true." This, at least, was completely truthful – she had chosen her words carefully at that last meeting. "And," she added icily. "If I want to have some fun occasionally, I'm allowed."

To her surprise, Margaret's eyes filled with tears. "You don't know, do you? You can't know. If you knew, you couldn't say something like that – your heart would have to be cold as death and it's not. I know it's not." A single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. "I know, because Christian wouldn't – he _couldn't_ – fall in love with someone so cold."

That was true, she supposed. "What don't I know?" she asked, a little suspiciously.

"You don't know what you did to him!" Margaret cried.

_If it's anything like what it did to me…_ "Yes, I –"

"No, you don't!" Margaret yelled, apparently forgetting where they were and what time it was. "For weeks, he wouldn't talk to anyone, not even me!" _Who _is_ she?_ Satine wondered again. "He stayed in his room and wouldn't come out. We were afraid he'd starve. And when he finally did come out, he was completely different! He barely recognized me – or anyone else for that matter – and was likely to start yelling whenever someone spoke to him."

Satine let out a sharp breath. "Are we talking about the same –?"

"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you! He's changed. He calmed down enough to tell me the story only last week, and I – I'm…" she gulped. "I'm appalled, to tell the truth. I'm angry that someone could do that to him and now – now I find that you're not even sorry!"

"Believe me, Margaret, I did guess that something like this could happen…" Satine whispered. Though not to this extent. She added silently. "But I stand by what I said before – he knew who I was, before any of this started, and if he chose to ignore it…" She could not bring herself to finish.

Margaret understood the meaning behind the statement though. The knife was against her throat again. "Take it back!" Margaret cried. "It's not his fault, take it back!"

"I take it back." She whispered, tears threatening to fall from her own eyes. "You're right! I take it back!"

Slowly, the pressure from the blade eased. "Who are you?" Satine asked, for the fourth time that during their conversation. "In relation to Christian. Why are you so fired up about this?"

Margaret studied her carefully. "I'm…" she hesitated. "I'm – his fiancée."

~break~

"Fiancée?" Margaret was slightly pleased to hear the horror in Satine's voice. Margaret nodded. _You spoke no word that was not true? How far can the truth be twisted that way?_ She wondered, and decided to test it.

"We're to be married next month." Satine's expression did not change – in fact it froze entirely. This was, Margaret thought, her way of trying to hide shock. "You understand, I'm sure, that I would like to know why my future husband is acting like this. And don't tell me it was so you could have fun."

"But it was…" Satine murmured, so quietly that Margaret wasn't sure she'd heard it. She shook her head as if to clear it and said out loud, "If you don't like who he is now, why do you want to marry him?"

Margaret stopped herself from smiling. She'd never said anything about _wanting_ to marry him, after all. Just that she was going to. But she didn't say that. "What does that have anything to do with it?" she asked, voice dripping with false sweetness, instead. "I was engaged to the man he was _before_."

Satine's eyes widened, and this time Margaret did smile. She'd finally evoked a visible response. "Oh, yes, I suppose you wouldn't know – we were going to be married before he came here, then he had that argument with his father. He left for Paris, telling me he was never coming back. He was very sorry."

"But I don't understand," Satine said. "If you were engaged – all you seem to be upset about is that I broke his heart. Don't you care that he had an affair?" she asked bitterly.

"Oh, yes, there is that." Margaret answered, choosing her words carefully. "But no, I don't really care about that at all – you see, I care more about him."

Margaret did not know what she was trying to accomplish with these veiled lies and half-truths. If Satine was who she seemed – an uncaring, evil whore – then she shouldn't be affected by it anyway. And if she wasn't, which Margaret found unlikely, if she wasn't then maybe she didn't actually deserve it.

She stood up, looking around the room for the first time. Christian had described this place – it was Satine's elephant, where they had kissed for the first time. She sighed at the memory of his description of that kiss. "Why do you live here?" she asked suddenly. "I thought the Duke gave you –"

"I don't use anything the Duke gave me." Satine interrupted harshly. "Ever." Something in her tone made Margaret turn around.

"Are you all right?" she asked. Satine certainly didn't look all right. She seemed very pale, though that might've been the candlelight. But her expression was one of cold fury, which Margaret hadn't expected, and she almost stepped backward at the sight.

"No." Satine answered, forcibly calm. "No, I'm not all right!" For the first time that night, she got off the bed. Slightly worried she was about to attack, Margaret gripped her knife harder. "What are you marrying him for?"

"For?"

"For! Why are you marrying him?" Satine half-shouted. "Is it for money, is it love? And more importantly," She continued before Margaret could answer, "What's he marrying you for?"

Margaret paused, contemplating her answer; she half-wondered whether she should end the charade now and tell the complete truth. It would be easy enough, with a question like that. No. She decided. Not yet. "If you are asking whether there is any feeling between us…" She hesitated, and Satine nodded, breathing heavily. "Then I'd have to say yes, there is."

"So, you love him. And he loves you?"

_You said it, not me._ "Yes." It was even true, to a point.

This was apparently a breaking point for Satine; she sank to the floor, sobbing – almost screaming – in anguish. She was trying to say something, but the words were lost in her tears.

Margaret watched her, trying to remain cold. This was, she told herself, no worse that what Christian had gone through, if a bit louder. Still, she hadn't expected the woman to break down like this. She'd expected argument and defense, not tears. "Look," Margaret said, almost desperately. "Why do you even care so much? It shouldn't matter to you that he's marrying me, not if you didn't love him –"

"But I did!" Satine exploded. "I do! I do – love – him…" her words subsided and the tears returned with a fervor.

After a few seconds of silence, broken only by the continued crying, Margaret sat down on the floor next to her. "Explain."

Choked with tears as she was, Satine couldn't answer, but she shook her head. Evidently, Margaret was getting nothing more out of her.

Margaret did not know how long they stayed there for. When Satine finally looked up again, however, the candle had burned low and it was no longer the only light in the room. "It's dawn." She said, speaking for the first time in what must've been hours.

"Mm-hmm…" Margaret agreed. She hesitated. "You know, I was still hoping to get an explanation."

Satine shook her head again. "No. It's none of your business." She stood up with some difficulty and Margaret followed suit. "Go back to England and bring Christian if you really want to know. I'll tell him."

"Perhaps you would, but he wouldn't come. You know that."

"I know." Satine began getting dressed. "I guess you'll just have to give in to disappointment then. Good-bye."

Margaret scoffed. "You think I came all the way here to give up now? Oh no, I'm not leaving. You may not want to tell me, but you can't be the only one around here that knows. I'll get it out of someone else."

"Good luck with that." Satine was trying – and failing miserably – at sounding cheerful. Then again, Margaret realized, she _had_ spent a good part of the last few hours crying. It couldn't be easy to sound cheerful after that "Uh…were you planning on threatening them too?" she nodded to the knife that Margaret still held.

"Oh!" Margaret had nearly forgotten she had it. "No, that was reserved for you."

Satine seemed startled. "I feel so...honored."

Margaret choked back a laugh, remembering how she'd bought the knife. At the time - only hours after Christian had told her his story - she had been furious at Satine. There was no excuse, none at all, for doing what she'd done. Had Satine been standing outside the shop where Margaret had procured the weapon, she wouldn't have hesitated before killing her then and there.

The trip to France had mellowed her a little and given her time to think things through. She'd come to the conclusion that there had to be _something_ that Christian didn't know, because, as she'd explained to Satine earlier that morning, she knew her life-long friend could not have possibly fallen in love with someone like that. Someone so shallow - not to mention cruel.

So, instead of stabbing the girl in her sleep as she'd originally planned, Margaret had chosen to wake her and demand an explanation. She hadn't gotten one, but she _had_ gotten confirmation that there was more to this story than there seemed to be. Girls who are just playing with men do not sob for hours upon learning that their former lovers are about to marry someone else. At least, she didn't think they did. She'd never actually met any others, so she could be wrong.

Whatever the case, she wanted to be sure before returning to England. Margaret left the elephant in search of someone who _would_ tell her what she wanted to know.

~break~

Satine watched Margaret leave the elephant impassively, at least to all outward appearance. Inside, she was boiling with emotion toward the woman who had brought such news to her. Remembering Margaret's startling revelations brought tears to Satine's eyes again and because she was alone she let them fall.

She'd been selfish, she realized. To think that her suffering at lying – or even half-lying – to him was at all close to what he would've felt at being lied to. She, at least, could be consoled in the knowledge that he had loved her. That it had been real, for however short a time. Except -

Except Margaret said she loved him. That he loved _her _as well. She said they were engaged and had been even before Christian had ever come to the Moulin Rouge. And yet he'd never mentioned her, or anything else from his past for that matter. Satine pondered what this could mean; whether, perhaps, he actually had loved her...

"No!" Satine had spoken out loud, to the reflection she had been staring at. "I won't believe that. I can't believe that. She can marry him if she wants," her breath caught, but she continued determinedly, "But that will not change the fact that we were in love. And that I still love him."

Somehow, saying the words aloud had help her convince herself that they were true. What Margaret had told her changed nothing. She finished getting ready, forcing herself to think of nothing more than the rehearsal that afternoon.

**Please review! I was going to make this into a one-shot, but kind of lost enthusiasm after awhile. It probably won't be more than two or three chapters total. However, your reviews will regain my enthusiasm! Thank you!**


	2. Reconciliation

**Chapter 2: Reconciliation**

Margaret stopped outside the elephant. Where should she go, after all? Who else was likely to know the answers she was seeking? Harold Zidler, probably. But she wasn't too excited to meet him.

She began walking slowly in a random direction and soon she saw a rather run-down building in front of her. Turning, she saw that it was right across the square from Satine's elephant. "Could it be...?" She entered the building to find a middle-age woman asleep at what might've qualified for a front desk at a more prestigious establishment. Walking carefully to avoid waking her, Margaret went up the stairs.

She slowed as she reached the second-to-top floor. If she was right about where she was – and Christian's description of the place had been very detailed – this was where he had lived for those months he'd spent here. Curious, Margaret put her hand on the doorknob and was surprised to find it turned easily.

The door opened and she found herself in a surprisingly small garret with only a few pieces of furniture. She walked over to the window and, sure enough, both the Moulin and Satine's elephant were clearly visible through it.

Margaret sighed. She had _not_ come here to sight-see. As she was about to turn away from the window, another memory of Christian's story asserted itself. "_Suddenly an unconscious Argentinian fell through my roof."_ She smiled and looked up at the ceiling, half-surprised to find that there actually _was_ a hole there. Not that she doubted his story, but surely they would've fixed it by now? Apparently not.

Still smiling, Margaret glanced out the window once more. And froze at what she saw. "Christian?" she whispered, squinting at the figure below her. _Is it possible?_

No longer caring about quiet, Margaret rushed down the stairs as quickly as she safely could. Considering the quality of the stairs, this was not very fast, but she reached the ground floor eventually. "Christian!" she called running over and throwing her arms around him without a thought. "What are you doing here?"

Christian returned her hug, though not very enthusiastically. "I might ask you the same thing." he said flatly.

"I asked first." Margaret laughed. "And, your presence is more mystifying than mine. I clearly remember you saying that you would never go back to the Moulin Rouge – I made no such vow. So, why are you here?"

"I was looking for you."

"Me?" Evidently, she'd been wrong when she told Satine he probably hadn't realized she was gone. "Why would you think I'd be here?"

"Your brother said I might find you here – but you still haven't said why you are." Christian answered, still sounding emotionless. Then again, she hadn't really heard any sort of emotion from him – other than anger – since he'd gone back to England. And returning to Paris couldn't have helped either.

But she still couldn't figure out _why_ he'd returned to Paris. "You came all the way here – to a place you hate – because this is where Robert said I _might_ be? Chris, that doesn't make any sense."

Christian shrugged. "I don't hate the place."

Margaret raised her eyebrows, but didn't press the matter. Instead, she glanced up at the elephant on an impulse, and was shocked to see that Satine was standing on the balcony, watching them. She looked back at Christian in time to see he'd followed her gaze and his face hardened at the sight. "Can we go home, Margaret?"

"No!" It came out harsher than she'd expected.

Startled, he looked back at her. "Why not?"

"Because," she hesitated, searching for a reason to stay. "Because I didn't get what I came for."

"Something you have yet to explain. Margaret – what did you come for?" For the first time in months, he actually seemed interested in the answer.

"Information. I talked to Satine..." They both glanced up, but she was gone. "I talked to her and – and I think you should too."

"No!" His answer was even more vehement than hers had been. He turned to go.

"I told her we're engaged."

Christian stopped and turned back again. "Why?"

Margaret shrugged. "To see her reaction. It was very...interesting." She thought about Satine's prolonged tears and decided not to go into any more detail. "Look, just talk to her. Tell her it's not true at least – I won't do that."

~break~

"Not true?" Apparently, neither Christian nor Margaret had noticed Satine's emergence from the elephant; they both jumped and turned toward her. "What do you mean it's not true?" When they didn't answer, she went on. "I know a lie when I hear one, and -"

"Maybe because you're so good at telling them?" Christian suggested angrily.

Satine winced at the tone, but met his eyes firmly. Perfect eyes, that she'd never expected to see again, though distorted with anger right now... "Christian, I –" she stopped. There was no point in explaining if he was marrying Margaret now. But she'd just said he _wasn't. _Satine shook her head, to clear it. "Maybe." she conceded. "But nothing she told me was a lie, as far as I could tell. So," she looked back at Margaret. "What do you mean it's not true?"

Margaret hesitated then said. "I said no word to you that was not true."

"Ah..." Satine closed her eyes, remembering that she'd said the same thing earlier. Margaret, it seemed, had decided to use the words against her. "I see." What Margaret had said probably _was_ true then – as true as the words Satine had spoken to Christian that last morning. True in their facts, not in their meaning. "Then I'm confused – are you engaged or aren't you?"

"We are." Christian shot a glare at Margaret. "On paper, at least, and we have been almost since we were born. It's why I left in the first place – we didn't want to get married."

"But she said -" Satine broke off, reminding herself that she could no longer take Margaret's words at face value. She raised an eyebrow at Margaret. "Then what did you mean by saying you're in love?"

"I never said that – you did." Margaret smiled. "And you didn't even ask whether we were in love, which I would've had to deny. No, you asked whether he loved me and whether I loved him – and the answer to that is yes. There's a difference between loving and being in love." She finished, rather triumphantly, Satine thought. "Besides," Margaret added as an afterthought. "We are cousins – am I not allowed to love my cousin?"

_Cousins?_ Satine nearly laughed in relief. Cousins _did_ marry, and quite often - too often, in her opinion - but it was less likely to be by choice or through romantic love. This made her story much more believable. She nodded, murmuring, "I suppose you are..." she trailed off, then smiled. "In that case –"

Margaret was suddenly eager, "Are you _finally_ going to explain?" she cried excitedly.

"To you? No, go away." Margaret looked like she wanted to protest, but Satine shook her head firmly. She wasn't sure why she was still refusing to tell Christian's cousin the answers that she'd originally come for; maybe because the questions had first been asked – or rather, demanded – at the point of a knife. Margaret huffed and her chestnut locks swung as she stalked away. Satine vaguely wonder whether she actually had a destination in mind - she was walking very determinedly - then she put the other woman out of her head completely. "Christian?"

"Explain? Satine, what is there to explain – the explanation seemed pretty simple last time." He said coldly.

Satine sighed. "Margaret could tell there was something missing from that story – I'm actually surprised you can't."

Christian sighed as well. "No, there does seem to be something missing from it. But I don't see what's changed between now and then – so why would you tell it now?"

"Because the Duke's gone." Satine answered immediately, but quickly hurried on. That was the least of her reasons for wanting to tell the truth. "Because I was acting on an impulse, because I've thought it through now. Because -" she was suddenly speaking more passionately, but trying to stop herself from crying. "Oh, because of a hundred different things, the most important of which is because I – I love you!"

There were a few moments of silence, during which Christian didn't seem to want to meet her eyes. "Fine." he said finally. "Explain."

~break~

Margaret made her way past the sleeping woman and up the stairs to Christian's room again rather dejectedly. She was almost jealous of her cousin, as absurd as she knew that was, because Satine would talk to him and not to her. _You did threaten to kill her. _Margaret told herself. _And you told her things that you knew would break her heart – assuming she had one. Which she does. She has every reason to hate you._

Even as she thought this, Margaret hoped it wasn't true. She hoped that Satine would be able to forgive her, even that they could become friends one day. She doubted it, but hoped nonetheless. She liked Satine, she suddenly realized. She had liked her from Christian's description, though that had mostly been obliterated by the knowledge of what she'd done. But now that she'd actually met her...

Shaking her head, Margaret opened the door to Christian's room again. She sat on the window sill carefully and peered down at the couple beneath her. They were clearly visible, but too far away for her to hear what they were saying – or even tell whether they were talking at all.

"Who are you?"

Margaret jumped at the voice and turned around quickly. She had, apparently, left the door open, and now a short man was standing in the doorway, staring at her. "I'm...I'm Margaret." she answered slowly. "And you're Toulouse. Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec?" It couldn't be anyone else – he matched Christian's description to the letter. There was more to his name, though, but Margaret couldn't remember it.

Toulouse's eyes widened in astonishment. "How do you know me?" he asked.

"Christian told me about you. I'm his cousin." she said, glancing out the window again. As far as she could tell, nothing had changed about the scene below.

"I see." The little man nodded sadly. "It is too bad that he weft so quickwy. If only Satine had talked to him or...or something..." Toulouse trailed off.

"What would she have said?" Margaret asked, suddenly wondering whether Toulouse might have the answers she wanted. She'd never considered him before because she was sure that he would've told Christian if he'd known. But even if he hadn't known then, he might have learned since. A lot can happen in three months. "Do you know?"

"Wumors." Toulouse said, shaking his head. "Whispers and specuwation. And secwets – Satine keeps her secwets, she always has. But I do know this: on the opening night of Spectacuwar Spectacuwar, I overheard the Duke's manservant telling Zidwer that he would kill Chwistian if he ever returned."

Margaret gasped – she couldn't help it. Was that it then? Had Satine...done what she had to save Christian's life? Was that what she was telling him now? She looked out the window again. Satine might've been a few steps closer to Christian than she had been, but Margaret couldn't tell for sure. "Is that why –?" she stopped, but Toulouse understood.

"I don't know. Sometimes I think so. Sometimes it seems wike that's all it would take. And sometimes...I don't know. We never saw Chwistian again and Satine won't talk about it. But if she hasn't been acting like a woman with a bwoken heart, then I'm a giant." Toulouse finished firmly. "You said he is your cousin?" Margaret nodded. "Do you know if he's coming back?"

"Yes. He _is_ back."

"What?" She motioned for him to look out the window. "Oh, but this is wonderful!" He cried as he did so. "Satine can expwain everything and it will be wike before – only without the Duke!" Margaret found his mood to be infecting; she grinned also, and nodded. Then she thought of something else.

"The Duke. He _i__s_ gone?"

"Oh yes. Gone for good."

"May I ask why?"

To her surprise, Toulouse giggled. "You seem well-informed about what happened here. Did Chwistian happen to mention Nini Wegs-in-the-Air – one of the can-can dancers?" The name was familiar. Margaret thought she might have been the black-haired girl, the one that tangoed with the Argentinian. Christian hadn't said much about her, but she nodded anyway. "She put on the dwess and wig that Satine wore for the final scene – the Duke never knew the diffewence. He weft the next day, thinking he'd got what he came for." Toulouse giggled again and Margaret was torn between recoiling in horror and laughing with him.

She settled on blinking very quickly several times and looking down at Christian and Satine again. They were definitely closer now. Much closer – in fact, even as she watched, Satine took the last step between them and kissed him. More surprising was that he kissed her back; apparently, whatever her reasons were, they were simple and satisfying.

Toulouse looked down as well, and then he clapped his hands together. "Yes! Yes!" He sang out happily.

Margaret gave a short chuckle – more at his reaction than anything else. After all, she still hadn't gotten her answers.

~break~

Satine ended their kiss after several long eternities, during which nothing seemed to exist except her and Christian, and their love. She smiled as she hadn't in months. "I'm sorry, my love." She whispered, pressing her cheek against his and savoring the feel of his arms around her.

"You're forgiven." He murmured back. She could hardly believe it – months of misery, forgiven in seconds. "I love you."

"Come what may." Satine laughed. Suddenly those words meant more than they ever had before. "I will love you…" she paused, grinning, "Forever."

"Those aren't the lyrics I remember," Christian remarked, even as he smiled at her.

"No," Satine answered. "But they're just as true – more so, even." Finally, she gently pulled away. "Where did Margaret go?" she asked, glancing around.

"I'm not sure – probably America, considering how you snapped at her. What was that about, by the way?" Christian asked. Laughing again, though with slightly less mirth – she still remembered the knife – Satine shook her head. She thought that, with time, she might be able to forgive Margaret for trying to kill her. She had, after all, only been upset about what had happened with Christian, and Satine could seem to blame her for that. But she wasn't ready to tell Christian just what had gone between them that morning.

"Never mind." She said. "Though I probably should apologize for that." She glanced around and saw the woman – along with Toulouse - emerging from the run-down building where Christian had lived – had it really only been three months ago?

"Am I allowed to come back now?" She asked, only a little coolly. She was smiling – she couldn't seem to help it.

Before Satine could answer, Toulouse interrupted excitedly and incomprehensibly. Something about how glad he was that Christian had returned, and wondering whether they were going to start the theatre back up again – all mixed in with plans for a party celebrating their reunion. He finally finished, grinning up at them. There were a few seconds of silence, and then Satine said, "Yes, well, how about you talk to Christian about that. And Harold. Yes, go talk to Harold."

Much as it pained her to let Christian go after such a short time, she smiled and shooed him and Toulouse toward Harold's office. Sighing, he acquiesced and left after the dwarf – well, he left after stealing another quick kiss. Which she willingly gave him.

Then Satine turned to Margaret. "I'm sorry." Margaret said immediately.

Slowly, Satine nodded. She wasn't accepting the apology, not yet, just acknowledging it. "I told Christian no word that was not true because the Duke was going to kill him if I didn't." Satine paused, watching Margaret's reaction closely. This was, after all, the information she'd come for. There was barely any reaction at all – if anything, she seemed to have confirmed a suspicion that the woman had already had, rather than presenting her with something new. Slightly confused, she went on. "Why did you do it to me?"

Margaret hesitated. "Anger." She said quietly. "Hurt – Christian's, if not mine. And curiosity."

"Curiosity?" Satine had not expected that to be part of her answer.

"Oh, yes." Margaret let out a derisive laugh. "You realize that the only reason you're still alive is because I was curious? Only a week ago, I'd not have hesitated before stabbing you in your bed and never have lost a night of sleep over it." Surprisingly, Satine realized she believed every word. A very determined – was that the right word?– determined young woman was Christian's cousin. "But then I thought it over. I found the hole in the story, and suddenly, I knew I couldn't stand it if I killed you never having filled it. So I woke you instead.

"And what spurred me to telling you – if not lies, then the next thing to them? Again, curiosity. I wanted to know how far the truth could be bent without breaking. I wanted to know whether you really could've given Christian the impression that you never loved him without ever saying as much. You passed the test."

"So, you believe me? That I really did love Christian, and only broke his heart in order to save his life?"

"Yes," Margaret nodded, not looking at her. "Yes. I do. But what does it matter, right, what I believe?" Their eyes met again. "Christian believes you, and that's what's important."

Satine nodded again. That _was_ what was important. "What will you do now?" she asked suddenly.

"Go home, I suppose." Margaret seemed startled at the question. "Why? What do you mean?"

"Go home? Without Christian?"

"Of course. You don't think he's going to leave you again." It was not a question. "Besides, I told you. We love each other – he's as close as my brother – but we're not in love."

"Yes, yes," Satine said impatiently. She was no longer talking about Christian – this realization startled _her_ a little. She was talking about Margaret. Why couldn't the girl see that? "But what will your parents say? If they've expected you to marry him all this time, what will they do if you tell them that's not going to happen?" Margaret froze. She hadn't thought of this, apparently. "They'll want you to marry someone else, probably." She answered her own question. "Probably someone twice your age or more."

Margaret looked very pale, and her reply was harsher than Satine thought it was meant to be. "So? Why do you care?" She hoped it was harsher than intended, anyway.

_Why _do_ I care_? Satine wondered. But the answer came to her lips easily. "Because you do love Christian, and I know he returns the feeling. I love him – and I know he wouldn't like that to happen to you. You, who have fought more for him than he knows." Margaret's mouth opened slightly, and Satine smiled. "I understand, now, why you lied to me like that. And…and I do forgive you."

Margaret, shocked, stumbled for something to say, finally settling on, "Th-thank you."

"Stay here,"Satine told her firmly. "Stay with us, at the Moulin Rouge. You can't be made to marry anyone you don't want to here, and you could be an actress." She laughed. "I think you'd be a good one."

Slowly, a smile spread across Margaret's face too. "You know something?" she replied. "I think I would. I think I would."

**A/N: I do not own the Moulin Rouge. Or the Wheel of Time series. Even Margaret is not completely orginial - I got the idea for her from the musical Miss Saigon, if you care. But her name and her place in this story are mine. **

**I hope you liked it - I had an irrational amount of fun writing it. Which is strange, because I've often gotten irritated with Robert Jordan (author of the Wheel of Time series) for making so many of his characters so manipulative. But it's _really _entertaining!**

**Thanks to my reviewer, Nutzforlutz, for reviewing. Please follow his/her example! Review!**


	3. And After

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, there's Margaret. And Robert (Margaret's brother). But that's it.**

**A/N: This story has randomly come out of completion because I felt like being random. This chapter was surprisingly easy to write - don't know whether that signifies a good chapter or a terrible one. I'm not sure whether there will be anything after this. Probably not, unless someone says they want more - and specifies what they want from it. I've marked it incomplete, just in case. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: And After**

Satine and Margaret made their way to Harold's office. It was all very well for Satine to decide Margaret should work there, but Harold was the one who would actually give her a job. Or so he thought anyway. However official Harold's decision would be, Satine had given him no choice in hiring Christian, and intended to give him none in hiring Christian's cousin.

She wasn't really worried though, because they needed good actors. Business had been going badly since Christian had left, and she felt it was partially her fault. Depressed by his absence, she hadn't been able to summon the proper feeling into her voice – that wouldn't be a problem anymore, of course – and they'd had to give up on the theatre for awhile.

Perhaps now, with a writer and new actress, they could return to the stage. She smiled at the thought. Other than Christian, acting was really the only thing she'd missed over the past months.

Toulouse, it seemed, had taken her up on the suggestion to talk to Harold; he and Christian were both in the office as they arrived. Harold seemed uncertain about the situation. "Diamond!" he cried, slightly frantic, as she entered. It was his current pet name for her. "He's back."

"I know." Smiling – it felt so good to smile again! - Satine went to stand by Christian, wrapping one arm around him tightly. She was _not_ going to let him leave again. "And this is Margaret, his cousin."

Harold looked at Margaret, then at Christian. "Really? You're related to her?" Christian nodded. "Interesting. Pleased to meet you, Margaret."

Margaret smile, a little awkwardly, and dipped a small curtsy. "I presume that Toulouse has mentioned that he wants to start the theatre again?" Satine asked.

"Oh, yes, yes." Harold said. "We will have to do that." he seemed resigned.

Satine had been going to say that Margaret wanted a job, but it almost sounded as though he didn't actually _want_ to run a theatre again. "Of course we will! Why shouldn't we?"

"It's just very sudden, my jewel." He said quickly. "The girls are probably out of practice with the dances and the difference of being on stage to being in a dance hall and … and most of them aren't really actors anyway, just dancers - "

"Well," Satine broke in, confused by his lack of confidence. If they had been allowed to perform Christian's play as it was meant to be performed, it would've been amazing – and now, without the Duke, they could. What exactly was the problem? "Well, I know someone who _would_ be a good actor."

"Who?"

"Margaret."

"What?" Surprisingly, it was Christian who had exclaimed, not Harold. Harold, it seemed, was too shocked to speak.

Margaret smiled. "I don't want to go home, Chris. What is there for me, there? Boring picnics and endless cups of tea? Proper society and both my father and yours always telling me why I don't fit into it? Perhaps an arranged marriage with someone worse than you." She shook her head firmly. "I can't go back to that." Evidently, Margaret had taken what Satine had said to heart. Of course, there was no reason for her not to.

Harold studied Margaret carefully for a few seconds, then addressed Satine. "And you say she would be a good actress."

"Very."

"How do you know?"

Margaret sent her a warning glance, so Satine decided not to explain fully. "Oh, I just know. She's … very like me, I think, in many respects." And very different in others, but she didn't say that.

Unconvinced, Harold continued to examined Margaret. "Well, you're very pretty." he said finally. "You can try for awhile, I suppose. I need to prepare things for the return to the stage. Toulouse, if you would remain..."

The other three understood the dismissal and left the room. "You want to be an actress?" Christian asked Margaret as soon as the door closed.

"Perhaps I do. Truthfully, the idea hadn't entered my head before Satine suggested it." She told him. "However, I _have_ been needing a change from the tiresome routine of upper class London, so this might be exactly what I've been looking for." Suddenly, she turned to Satine. "You will mention to Zidler at some point that I do _only_ want to be an actress, not … "

Satine nodded quickly, having forgotten that Harold might take her request for a job the wrong way. "I will. It shouldn't be a problem. Part of the reason he wanted to convert the Moulin Rouge into a theatre was to also make it into a legitimate business. The Duke was to be my final client." She grimaced, thinking of the trouble her almost-final-client had caused.

They had been walking without direction, but Satine realized they had arrived at the auditorium. The floor had long been cleared of the chairs that had filled it for Spectacular Spectacular and the red curtain hadn't been lifted for much too long, but it was still an auditorium.

In the middle of what they still used as a dance floor, Nini Legs-in-the-Air and the Argentinian were dancing. They had danced more and more often recently – Satine wondered vaguely whether they might be falling in love. She quickly dismissed the notion. There would be nothing wrong with it if so, though Harold might disagree, but Nini was a very proper prostitute. Satine couldn't really see her falling for anyone, even her dance partner of five years.

As they entered the large room, Nini spotted them and stopped dancing, murmuring something to the Argentinian. He looked over at them once, nodded to Christian, then turned away. Unlike Toulouse, the Argentinian had never really been comfortable with her relationship with Christian. She thought it was probably because he was worried it would ruin the show – and as her co-star, a failed performance would hurt him as much as her. He also did not have love for Christian to make it worth the cost, as she did.

Nini, on the other hand, made her way over to them, grinning. "Shakespeare! You're back!" She said, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. "Will Harold reopen the theatre then? I've been dying to get back on-stage." And that would be why.

"Yes he will." Satine told her. "I didn't realize you liked acting so much, Nini." She heard Margaret give a slight start, and shot her a confused glance. Margaret was looking at Nini with interest. Satine wondered briefly if she knew the name.

Nini only laughed. "Oh, but I do – opening night of Spectacular Spectacular was amazing. Not on stage so much, but the night after was extremely fun." She said with relish. "Have you told him? About the night after, and why the Duke left?"

Satine hesitated. "No..." It hadn't seemed important, really, and Christian hadn't asked.

"Can I?" She asked eagerly.

"I suppose."

"Well," Nini began dramatically, turning to Christian. "After you left, Satine finished the play as she was supposed to from the beginning. You know, exchanging wedding vows with the Duke – I mean the Maharaja, of course - " Satine glared at her, sure the slip up was on purpose. "And so on.

"When the play was over, she returned to her dressing rooms, to prepare to meet the real Duke. I followed her there and found her in such a state that I realized she simply couldn't go to the Duke like that.

"And so, feeling that true love shouldn't be treated like this," Unconsciously, she stroked the diamond necklace that she was wearing, "I offered to go in her place. I put on her dress – and her hair, her wig that is, what she wore for the show – and fulfilled her promise the Duke. He never knew the difference." She grinned again. "Surprising, that, as the wig very nearly came off several times. But then, he's always been a moron, so maybe not so surprising."

Satine stopped herself from groaning. "Go back to the reason you did all this? It was to save me from it for the sake of love, or something?"

"Of course it was!" She managed to sound offended. "Why else?" Rolling her eyes, Satine suddenly yanked the necklace off her neck. "Hey! Give it back!" Nini cried, snatching for her precious diamond.

"I won't – not until you tell the truth."

Nini ground her teeth and looked back at Christian. "Oh, all right, I didn't do it for the sake of your love. Don't even believe in love, really. She begged me to take her place, and paid me well to do it. With the necklace that the Duke had only just given her." She held out her hand for said necklace. "Now give it _back_!" Satine, who had never really had any intention of keeping it – it was a gift from the Duke, after all - gave it back.

~break~

Margaret had decided she was going to like it at the Moulin Rouge. She'd only been there a week, but already it felt more like home than England. The girls were more accepting of her than she'd expected, though they did laugh at her for her modesty – that's what they called it, modesty, when they learned she wouldn't be a prostitute. They didn't laugh very hard though; Satine, after all, was also 'modest' in this respect, and she was the star.

Acting was as much fun as Satine had described – and it came astonishingly easily to Margaret. She thought it was because she'd spent so much time pretending to be someone she wasn't at all of her father's social events.

However, she had now been gone from home a week, after telling her brother Robert that she would be home in a few days at most. He was likely starting to worry about her, which she would not allow. Robert was the only one, other than Christian, who had always accepted her for who she was.

It was time to inform her family of her decision to remain in Paris. Slowly, began to compose a letter.

_My Dear Brother,_

_I am sorry I did not write to you sooner. I have been very busy this past week. You see, my business in Paris turned out not to be quite what I thought it would be. _

_I am sure you are aware that after our cousin, Christian, returned from this city, he was not himself. The reason, which he confided in me the week before I informed you that I was leaving, was that he had fallen in love in Paris – and that the woman, Satine, had first convinced him she returned the feeling and then broken his heart. _

_I came to learn why she would do this. As it turned out, what she did was done to save Christian's life. You see, she had another suitor who was insanely jealous of her love for Christian and this led him to attempt to kill him. Satine knew there would be no other way to convince him to leave, so she pretended that she'd been playing with him all along. _

_Christian – whom you informed of my whereabouts, I believe – arrived in Paris soon after I did. Satine's other suitor was gone, so she was able to explain the situation to us and confessed her love for our cousin. They are quite happy now, and you may tell Uncle that he will not be returning home again in the near future. _

_I, too, have decided to remain in Paris, which is why I am telling you all this in a letter rather than in person. I have tired of life in London recently and I was offered a job at the theatre where Satine and Christian work – she as an actress and he as a playwright. I have accepted and am now content with my situation. I do not intend on returning soon either._

_If you wish to visit me, the theatre is called the Moulin Rouge. It is in the village of Montmartre – and please, do not tell Mother and Father this. I'm sure Mother would faint from shock and Father would come to get me. The people here are not anything like what they have heard from Uncle (I am, in fact, now rather doubtful that he has ever visited the village himself) and I assure you I have not and will not join the women here in their indecency. _

_Love, _

_Margaret_

Margaret folded the letter and addressed it. Robert would not betray her trust by telling their parents when she had expressly asked him not to. It was always possible that her father would intercept the letter before it got to Robert – he had been known to do such things – but it was beyond her power to stop him, so she decided to take the chance.

It was always possible that Robert himself might wish to 'save' her from Montmartre, but she would much rather her brother be the one to convince her to return than her father. Robert was willing to listen to reason; their father was not.

As she was leaving to mail her letter, Margaret nearly ran into Satine. "What's that?" She asked, curious.

"A letter. It's for my brother. I told him I'd be home days ago, so I'm afraid he might be worrying about me." Margaret told her, smiling. Over the past week, her hope that they would become friends was well on its way to being realized. "I was just going to send it."

"Well, come back soon." said Satine. "Harold wants to perform Come What May in a week and we have a rehearsal this afternoon. Don't be late."

Margaret agreed and hurried on her way, still smiling. Come What May was the renamed Spectacular Spectacular. A truly spectacular play – though they all agreed that was hardly a fitting title – that Christian's descriptions had completely failed to capture. As Satine had the only main female part in the play, Margaret was in the chorus, but she didn't mind. Besides, Harold seemed impressed with her performance – she'd heard him telling Christian that there needed to be a bigger part for her in the next play.

Yes, Margaret really was going to like it here, whatever her family thought about it.

**A/N: Yeah, I'm really not sure if this is any good. At all. Or whether writing the whole letter was necessary. Oh well.**

**Review anyway? Oh, and in your review, would you mind answering a question? Would you be at all interested in reading a Christian/Nini romance? You see, I have an idea. Actually I have half a story written - it doesn't have anything to do with _this_ story, by the way. Nini is be a completely different character than she is here, a hopefully much more likable character, eventually.**

**Please review!**


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